


without a sign, our fate changes silently

by orphan_account



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, mostly just the convenient timeline for holiday shenanigans really, that's a lie actually there is nothing but sadness for this ship, this is somewhere in the f/ha timeline probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>None of them could pinpoint exactly when Illyasviel had fixated on celebrating Christmas within its walls, but all could say that she was steadfast enough (and, each had noted privately, truly happy in a way they couldn’t bear to ruin) that there had not been a single objection.</i>
</p>
<p>(Saber returns a long-overdue gift.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	without a sign, our fate changes silently

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short thing I wrote for Christmas, but I figured I'd post it here anyway because the tag is so quiet these days. Happy Holidays, everyone!

The Einzbern castle had not been so lively in years, the movements of the lady of the house shadowed not only by her maids but a brother and a knight as well. None of them could pinpoint exactly when Illyasviel had fixated on celebrating Christmas within its walls, but all could say that she was steadfast enough (and, each had noted privately, truly happy in a way they couldn’t bear to ruin) that there had not been a single objection.

And so, Saber had found herself sorting through old boxes of garland, lights, and ornaments in the smaller building on the edge of the property. Celebrations of the holiday were not quite like this during her lifetime, yet each item was familiar to her as it was examined and placed under the categories of “useable” or “not”. It had been something she had objected to at the time, the war they were waging taking priority in her battleready mind. In fact, the spirit had gone so far as the question Irisviel on the wisdom of such a decision before settling on a compromise of monitoring their territory’s borders herself in order to ensure that Irisviel’s change in focus did not alter their defenses.

Her patrols were punctuated by periods of excited decorating with Irisviel, exchanging stories of their respective experiences with the season and simply enjoying each other’s company. Whether it was a similar festive spirit or some other purpose, none of the other participants in the fourth Heaven’s Feel crossed her path, shortening her vigils until Irisviel’s assurances that maintaining her connection to the castle’s Bounded Field would be sufficient (and that she would like to spent more time with her knight, given the circumstances) effectively ended them.

On the night before the occasion itself, Irisviel had presented her with a small figurine, shaped like a knight and woven carefully out of the fine threads of her magic. She had placed it into her hands with a smile that felt so much warmer than the fire lit in the room that Saber could hardly keep her cheeks from becoming redder. "Do you like it?" Irisviel had asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice for the first time.

"Of course, Irisviel," she had replied, carefully placing it on the tree with a rare smile (all of which were always in reply to Irisviel).

The woman standing in the storehouse remembered it all so clearly, even as the blue glow of her lady’s magic no longer shone from the ornament. At the time, she had not prepared a gift in return and, although Irisviel had assured her that her happiness was present enough, there was a fortnight before Christmas for her in this current time and no further threats from the Grail in sight.

Shirou was the first to note her distraction, asking whether she was alright on the third occasion where she had simply stood in the hallway for long moments, paying no mind to the considerable weight of the boxes she was moving. Illyasviel had given her a much slyer look when she had been caught staring off into apparent space before offering a very quiet "I think that Mom would have liked it." A question was half-formed in the king’s mind before Illya winked and skipped off without another word.

It had been many years since she last carved anything. Eagerly, in her youth, she had begged Sir Kay to teach her the basics and he, ever willing to interfere with Merlin’s teachings, had offered a few short lessons. Arturia, as she was now, had not used a blade for anything other than battle for two lifetimes and yet the skill came back as though it was instinctual. The only problem was a sort of artistic block. No matter what angle she approached the slab of wood from, no shape lept to mind from its interior.

Hours were spent in contemplation, considering what form would best represent Irisviel. All of them were too simplistic or otherwise not suited to all the things she wished to capture about the other. The arts had always been the subject of a certain mystification on her part, something that was far beyond the role of a king and therefore only dabbled in. Were these tasks always so difficult?

Scarcely a day before the eve of Chistmas, inspiration struck at last. It was not perfect nor all-encompassing to all the things that had made her love Irisviel, but it felt right to her as appraising green eyes gave it on final once-over. Satisfied, Saber emerged from the room Illyasviel had lent her for the time being, that same knowing glint in her eyes, and moved to the large tree that the girl’s Servant had plopped at the wide doors of the castle a few days ago.

The silver of the ornament Irisviel had made for her reflected the light of the candles, fortunately making the task of locating it an easy one. It almost appeared to glow as in had when its maker still lived, pushing Saber’s heart into her chest for a long moment. Just as precisely as she had when placing the gifted figurehead years ago, she choose a branch to the right of the knight and hung her own wooden bird beside it. The styles clashed, one created from magic and the one from wood, but both looked at home in the sight of the other.

With one final look, she turned to join the lively celebrations of those who had slowly, somehow, begun to be thought of as family. 

"Merry Christmas, Irisviel."


End file.
